


That Orange

by EHyde



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Elantris - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EHyde/pseuds/EHyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of <em>Elantris</em>, Sarene muses on the fashion choices of the city of the gods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Orange

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kogiopsis for the 2012 Cosmere Secret Santa on tumblr.

Visitors to Elantris were, invariably, surprised by what they saw there. The city was bright, gleaming, exactly like the Elantris of legend. And the inhabitants, too, were now restored to their former glory, shining like gods. It perhaps should come as no surprise that the legends never made much mention of what the Elantrians wore. What was clothing--no matter how fine--compared to the Elantrians themselves? They were as gods, so they must dress as gods did. Flowing, austere robes, that was the sort of mental image that most people had before they saw the city. No one was ever prepared for the simply-made, practical clothing in its array of bright colors, looking like it had been dyed in a vain attempt to outshine the Elantrians themselves.

Sarene looked out over the walls of the palace at the city below and sighed. “I am never going to live this down, am I?”

The fabrics that had looked so bright and cheerful on the cursed Elantrians … didn’t, anymore. If anything, they looked even more garish than Sarene had originally thought them to be, the natural glow of the Elantrians’ skin erasing any chance the fabrics had at subtlety. Yet the people wore them with pride. This wasn’t all they wore, of course--now that Elantris was restored, no one need be limited to a single outfit--but even in the new clothing that was bought or made since the restoration, Sarene was noting a trend in bright colors.

“No,” said Raoden. “No, I think not.” He himself was wearing a suit of a single color, a dark blue that looked striking against his pale, silvery skin, but even he had kept the gaudy shirt and trousers he had worn in New Elantris, and still wore them on less formal occasions.

“And to think,” said Sarene. “All this could have been averted had I simply given you plain muslin.”

“I think they’re beautiful,” said Raoden. The bright colors had made the Elantrians beautiful when their bodies were diseased and ugly. Now, being beautiful was a given.

“Even that orange?”

Raoden grinned. “Maybe not the orange.” He paused. “Well, yes. Even the orange. That’s just it. Elantrians are beautiful, perfect, no matter what we wear.”

“Or what you don’t wear,” Sarene murmured, then shook her head. Leave that for later.

“And that perfection is--well, it’s unearned. What we had in New Elantris wasn’t perfection, but we did it ourselves. With your generous assistance.”

Sarene nodded. It made sense. Being an Elantrian was wonderful, but it wasn’t really something you could be proud of, not in the same way that people took pride in having been a part of New Elantris. The restored Elantris was a symbol of powerful magics, magics that still weren’t fully understood. The clothing from New Elantris was a sign of what people, even in the lowest circumstances, could do for themselves if they worked together. Of course people would want to continue to wear it. “Still,” said Sarene. “That does not mean I have to like the orange.”


End file.
